


Green Eyed Envy

by Nudebeme



Series: Ulfric and Dovahkiin [2]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Adultery, Anal Sex, Angst, Depression, Jealousy, Love/Hate, M/M, Masturbation, Obsession, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Secret Relationship, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-12
Updated: 2013-04-12
Packaged: 2017-12-08 07:06:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/758497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nudebeme/pseuds/Nudebeme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ulfric gets everything he wished for, and it slowly comes to make him miserable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Windhelm Ice

The months that had passed after Solitude was annexed where of turmoil for the Stormcloak empire. New Jarls where overrun with their duties, new armies consisted of farmers, sons of inn owners. These men had little to no talent despite their eagerness to serve for their new High King. Yes, the moot had settled Ulfric as the new king of Skyrim, Elisif's name fell into darkness as she was a puppet to the rebels in blue. 

His life, once he'd been declared lord, had been nothing but his work. He and Galmar hardly saw each other while his housecarl took his duties across the land, Ulfric was bound to his throne it seemed and the exhausted king seemed to be growing older by the day. The man was far too tired at the end of the day to consider relaxing, knowing his sleep will be brief before it was time to become commander once again.

He was so tired. The only thing that brightened the cold days where when the Dragonborn arrived at his halls- the young man had taken up residence in Hjerim, Jorleif setting him up with the redheaded Calder to tend to his home while the man vanished for weeks at a time. It was calming for Ulfric to know that his second most faithful Stormcloak was happy to live in Windhelm. Late in the night the young Nord would steal away to the upper floor of the palace, he'd wake Ulfric from his troubled sleep. Those rare nights where what kept Ulfric still a man. They had so little to say to each other, the sex was so intense and the afterglow always left them embracing tight. 

It worried Ulfric just how much he depended on those visits, Until within a span of 2 months the man's visits became more and more rare. The less his champion showed up, the more restless and uncomfortable Ulfric grew- his arms yearned to hold him, his ears missed the sound of his strong voice. It was only a matter of time before Dovahkiin stopped showing up at night entirely, occasionally arriving at the palace to deal business with the Stormcloak commanders. But it was in those times Ulfric was unable to even have a conversation with the Dovahkiin. His sharp eyes didn't undress him anymore, he didn't smile endearingly for his Jarl quite as much as he used to. 

Ulfric absolutely hated that. He started hating everything about the situation he'd put himself in: his dependency, his addiction to having sex with the man, and now, how he could think of little else except to wonder why the Dovahkiin suddenly had been pulling away. Ulfric Stormcloak was expected to take a queen soon enough yet his interests where completely devoid, he didn't have time for a wife now. He didn't want one. 

He hated that too. The Dragonborn bent him and melted into him so intensely that Ulfric no longer thought of women. Dovahkiin drove him so wild he found himself craving the same sex, and this itself would not be fitting of a High King. It's not that he thought of taking the Dovahkiin to be his spouse, but he'd never felt so passionate about someone like this. Talos, help him. 

Word started to spread through Windhelm of the Dovahkiin being sighted at the side of The Companions of Whiterun. It seems he'd climbed to the ranks of their Harbinger and Ulfric knew then that his Stormblade had found a new calling. Such a title to have as Harbinger.. His daily frowns grew at the banter of the city guards talking of their most famous resident. Dovahkiin being spotted about town with a very tall and strapping fellow Companion at his heels. It became so common to the point that the townsfolk had stopped seeing the Dovahkiin alone at all.

“He's been taking the Companion into his home every night.”

“They have smiles plastered on their faces, no matter how bitter the wind and cold.” 

“The Dragonborn and the man with him sit together all night at Candlehearth.”

It was rumors like these that spread about like star gossip, and Ulfric had trouble keeping his mind gathered on Skyrim the more he heard. It was to the point that he wanted nothing to hear about the Dovahkiin, which he hadn't seen in his palace for several weeks. He had an idea. The finest of Stormcloaks and their Jarls where meeting in Windhelm for a feast, he'd invite Stormblade to sit next to him. 

Wait. What was wrong with him? He suddenly thought, knowing his craving not only for his sex but his companionship has become far too obsessive. 

~~

 

The hall was alive with the enthusiastic voices of the many hold's Jarls, the finest of soldiers seated down the long dining table. The soothing sounds of flute and drum brought life to the banquet yet something was missing. Ulfric, fiddling with a silver flagon of ale, sat at the head of the table and narrowly surveyed the guests. Galmar sat nearest to him, the seat across remained empty. Stormblade hasn't shown yet- somehow this even surprised Ulfric. 

It was then that Dovahkiin drew an uneasy breath and looked up at the grand doorways of the palace on this bitter night. The guards hailed him, stood aside starstruck at the sight of him. Dovahkiin looked sharp as always, vainly dressed his finest in gray and black clothing, his amulet of Talos upon his broad chest. 

“I'll feel so out of place in there. Are you sure you don't want me back at your house?” 

“Nonsense, Farkas. It's an honor to be here tonight, you should enjoy it.” Dovahkiin turned and smiled at the man that he'd let into his life for the past 2 months. His heart grew warm when Farkas simply shrugged and gave the littlest smile before being led into the bright hall. Despite his stalwart smiling face, despite his jovial greetings from his fellow Stormcloaks, Dovahkiin felt a dread creeping up in the back of his mind. Ulfric was far down the hall, and he knows they hadn't shared a night, nary a word, for what seems like forever. 

He didn't mean for it to happen, but along the lines as he aided the Companions of Jorvaskrr, he took a shine to Farkas. He was unbelievably handsome, the same age, and his heart was warm and kind. He was such a pleasure to talk to, easy to befriend unlike his aloof brother. He made Dovahkiin smile with his adventurous spirit and honest ways- it was only a matter of time before he'd discovered (in one memorable quest) that Farkas indeed was interested in him too. 

Things seemed to just build up since then. When they shared their first drunken kiss, when they first lay together under the stars atop a bedroll in the valley. Dovahkiin was so enroped in the caring Nord that the secret affair he shared with the High King made him feel...guilty. As he quickly took a seat at the far end of the table with Farkas beside him, he realizes this will be the time that Ulfric understands why his Stormblade had vanished from his life. 

Sure he missed their frantic midnight fucks, he missed the feeling of those aged lines as he caressed the Jarl's face. He missed his voice. But Farkas... well, he'd just like to think that with a humble man like him at his side traveling Skyrim, his life would be that much richer. 

It was then that Ulfric noticed him walk through the door. His heart pounded- Dovahkiin looked beautiful. His pale brown hair braided back, facial hair perfectly manicured and a splash of Stormcloak blue paint framed his high cheekbone. The aged man's infatuation remained hidden under a stoic face. It was then his heart pounded at quite a sour beat upon seeing the towering and dark man enter behind him. His eyes where painted, long black hair framing his masculine yet gentle face. Ulfrics eyebrow twitched, something of a grimace quirking on his full lips at the sight of Stormblade gesturing for the man to sit while he walked towards the Jarls and the High King himself.

The eye contact they made felt incredibly awkward, yet the Dovahkiin flashed a fake smile at the High King, who simply stared back in what could be described as a plain face. “Stormblade. It's been a while since you've reported in. I take it you've been busy in your travels?” He tried not to feel upset, yet something inside him didn't feel right at all. He wished he could take the famous man into a secret place and rediscover him, to feel his dominant kiss once again. 

“King Ulfric.” He smiled, an air of complete distance among the presence of others “I'm sure my travels have taken me into every Falmer infested cave in Skyrim. I take it you've been busy yourself with rebuilding her?”

The conversation remained brief, uncomfortably formal, as if they hadn't shared so many passionate nights before. 

Dovahkiin didn't sit beside the king. He and Farkas ate together, engaged in a conversation that Ulfric couldn't hope to hear, a small constant smile on the new man's face. It became pretty obvious to the king why Dovahkiin stopped waking him with a midnight kiss. He's moved on, grew tired of Ulfric.

Ulfric's never been rejected before, and for some reason, he couldn't bring himself to eat anymore. Galmar noticed how his leader grew quiet and contemplative, his dashing green eyes caught staring at the Dragonborn in a look that almost mirrored anger. Galmar sneered and knew that Ulfric was being ridiculous with this foolish affair. If it meant slapping sense into him later, he'd be willing to do it. The High King had no time for silly love games with another man, even if he was the famed Dovahkiin. 

As the night continued Ulfric's disappointment grew stronger, his mind bouncing back and forth between Skyrim's struggle and his own personal loss. Why did the Dragonborn suddenly pull away? The feeling of rejection was becoming awfully apparent, glancing down the table and seeing how the Dovahkiin's shoulder rested beside his companion's, how they where in their own little world with each other. 

When the night was over, Farkas returned to Hjerim alone, The High King calling for his wayward Stormblade into the very room they'd first kissed in. Now it felt uncomfortable, the towering Dovahkiin alone with Ulfric. He looked the king up and down, as handsome as ever yet, he knew this meeting would go awry. 

Ulfric looked into his eyes, his own blue-greens showing something so deep that even the younger man could not place it. His beautiful lips curved down into something of a pout. They said nothing.

“...Is there a reason you've called for me?” Ulfric didn't want to admit it, but hearing that hurt. “You haven't been reporting in, you haven't shown your face for over 15 days.” Ulfric eyed the Dovahkiin's lips, the mouth he desired to kiss so much more now that he'd been without him. He wanted the Dragonborn's full attention now that Ulfric had grown spoiled and dependent upon him. 

“...” The brunette didn't apologize, he said nothing before Ulfric approached him, both of their hearts pounding with uncertainty. “How I've longed for you.” the high king admits, his thick fingers reaching up and holding the hem of the man's jacket.

The spoiled man wanted him back, finding himself leaning in all the way to seal a kiss to the man's mouth, now standing on his toes to be at his height. His eyes closed briefly, the Dovahkiin only responding slightly with a tilt of his head, his arms still at his sides. The Dragonborn only felt an uncomfortable dread in his heart, now that it had steered away from the king and towards a man he felt he could truly connect with. Farkas. He thought about Farkas. 

The kiss broke only for Ulfric to look him in the eyes, easing the taller man towards the wall as he was forced to continue the unresponsive kiss. His tongue tried to pass the other nord's lips, moaning almost sweetly to try and coax the man to respond, to take him upstairs like he'd always done and lay waste to his chambers. It was with a look of utter confusion that Ulfric pulled away, staring at the Dragonborn who simply stared back. Nothing happened for what seems like forever.

And Ulfric hated it. To be denied, unwanted, these where feelings foreign and stung in so many ways. What's happened? How could the Dovahkiin simply take the passionate affair to such a dead end that he'd deny the king's longing? “Do you not want me?” He asked with a twinge of bitterness on his tongue.

“I'm...I'm sorry, Ulfric.” It was wrong of him to do so, but Dovahkiin grabbed the king's arms and pulled him in for a kiss that felt more apologetic than anything, breaking it with a small, quicker one before he pulled away and took for the door. “Goodnight, my king.” and like that, he was out. Ulfric was left standing there, his lips tingling and his stomach upset.


	2. Dovahkiin's Perspective

Dovahkiin's walk back home seemed to take forever, feeling quite suddenly miserable despite going to return to the man that somehow changed his perspective of his own future. He thought about Farkas, his kind heart and caring embrace. Dovahkiin just felt so comfortable beside him, and as the weeks went by as they traveled together, the young man decided that maybe he could let his guard down. Maybe he could love, maybe he could learn what it's like to have someone to care for him and be there when he needs it. 

It was warm in Hjerim when he stepped in, Farkas arriving from the kitchen and greeting him with a strong hug “You're back.” Farkas gave him a gentle kiss, one that made the Dovahkiin's thoughts rush back into his head. “What did Jarl Ulfric want from you? A new assignment?” Farkas knew his importance to the cause and that his Harbinger was one to help unite Skyrim once again. “It's nothing important, Just a few words with the king. I'm sure you'll be happy to know that the Stormcloaks won't be in great need of my services from now on.” 

Farkas wasn't sure about the tone of his voice but didn't bother to delve in deeper, choosing instead to lead Dovahkiin up the wooden stairs, past the mannequins adorned with Daedric and Glass armor and into the room he willingly stayed in for so many nights. Ever since the Dragonborn helped him rid himself of the spirit wolf, he felt deeply for him. Dovahkiin was someone he could trust, and even if he felt indifferent for the controversial man a friendship grew. And when it was time for the Dragonborn to rid himself of his wolf spirit, Farkas was more than willing to be there for him. 

Farkas might love him. He felt that way as they stripped at the foot of their shared bed, smiling warmly at the sight of his shield-brother nude before him. A strong calloused hand reached out, it's fingers combing through pale brown hair before he could lean in and kiss him once again. When Farkas kissed him that way it really did make Dovahkiin feel like he was loved. 

His tongue always filled his mouth, his unkempt facial hair felt good against his own- his kiss tasted nothing like Ulfric's. His salty skin that he now licked and made love to tasted wild, like the outdoors. Their candlelit room soon filled with the sounds of a creaking bed, of the Dovahkiin moaning in delight while Farkas claimed him. The Dragonborn's hard eyes stared at the ceiling as Farkas pressed his forehead to the famed man's chest as he fucked him, but soon he found himself having flashbacks of his trips to Ulfric's chambers. When Dovahkiin met Farkas things seemed to change, yet to see the shock on the green eyes of the King as he denied him almost brought the Dovahkiin away from the sex. 

When they came it was with long, heated cries into each other's mouths. Farkas' deep, gravelly voice mirrored the Dovahkiin's in strength and passion- and those eyes. Those white blue eyes looked at the Dragonborn in a way Ulfric never did..it was an honest sort of desire, an expression of the purest and deepest like. Somewhere inside his now-guilty mind he wondered if the high king would have ever looked at him that way if given the time. 

“What's that face for?” The Dovahkiin couldn't help but grin back, pushing the thoughts away. He reached up and tucked a strand of his long black hair behind his companion's ear and was soon granted with a handsome smile. “You didn't need to bring me along to that whole thing at the Palace, you know how I don't care for politics...but thank you. Why did you want me there?” It was more than a challenge just to get the man in expensive clothes and to a highbrow party.

“To see you in those ridiculous robes, of course.” He joked, being met with a very plain look. Farkas didn't get it- how charming. “Farkas. When was the last time I had not wanted you with me?” The wider-set man atop him pulled out and rested close against his Dovahkiin in a dog-like cuddle. He had a strong, hairy arm draped over the other man's chest, his forehead pressed to a scruffy cheek as he listened. 

The conversation lingered for the next hour, the sweat evaporating off their skin making the two Nords cold enough to burrow under the green blankets before wrapping themselves up tight like they had been doing for so long. They'd been at each other's side constantly, they've traveled from the highest point in Winterhold's college down to the ratways of Riften and back again. 

In that time, Dovahkiin learned what it was like having someone always there for you. Ulfric never would have gotten piss drunk at that seedy bar full of Argonians, never would have delved with him to the bottoms of Dwemer ruins...and certainly, he now thinks, would never have brought him what Farkas soon gives.

“I've got something to say to you” Farkas begins, pulling the Dovahkiin's face to look at his, endearing white eyes searching his harbinger for something. “I've been thinking about it for a while and...I try to hold back from saying stuff like this, but..” Farkas cursed his inability to find the words, wished he had his brother's skill. The way he paused made the Dovahkiin smile, his thoughts vanishing. 

“What is it, Farkas?” 

“Well, I.” the larger man mumbled, but looking as if he'd mustered a courage out of himself.

“I love you.” 

I love you? Did he just say that? Dovahkiin blinked out of sheer surprise. That in itself followed by the silence let Farkas know what he'd been trying to say for a while now may have offended the Dragonborn. But what Farkas felt certainly was real, the passion and desire to be in his company long outlasted his wolf spirit's. Farkas waits for his response, somehow feeling as if he would not be hurt if the feelings weren’t returned. The Dragonborn needed to know that. Even if he wasn't loved back, Farkas would be willing to continue to be at his side as long as he wished. 

“Are you sure, Farkas?” Was all he could ask, knowing that love on the battlefield for a Dragonborn would indeed end in tears. Farkas was going to have a hard time loving him, he thinks.. I mean the man was innocent enough when it came down to things, but he wasn't one to lie. Farkas merely nods and accentuates his point with a simple kiss to his lips. “Yes, I'm sure.”


	3. Ulfric's Perspective

“You are being absolutely foolish! Look around you, Ulfric! This land is at war, against all odds and she does not need a king who squanders his attention on nonsensical affairs!”

“I don't believe I've asked for your opinion on personal matters.” Ulfric's low voice hummed with a well-hidden anger that he masked from his housecarl. There was absolutely nothing wrong here, and Galmar has too long been criticizing every aspect of his life. Spying, sneaking, gathering evidence. 

“Personal matters, you say. Will it remain personal when Skyrim realizes their new High King is caught in bed with a man half his age while her people await a new royal bloodline?” The king's green eyes became dark and his sneer wicked. Galmar was pushing him, and he was telling the truth worst of all. He just wanted to knock the older man out, do anything to shut him up. 

“Will it remain personal when the next roll with that stubborn ass of a Dragonborn becomes more important than your duties as our commander?” Galmar hated the way Ulfric was behaving, it was childish and something for the young and hopeless. At first Galmar let it slide- Ulfric was a stressed man, and the Dragonborn always managed to put a smile on his face. That was far enough, but when Ulfric stood up before Galmar, fists clenched, things got too serious. But he wasn't going to back down.

“What if you're love for this bastard overcomes the love that has driven us this far? That has brought us victory? The love that made you weep thinking that perhaps Skyrim would not be won?”

It was then Ulfric, for the first time in a very long time, struck Galmar. With an aggressive snarl his strong fist landed against Galmar's half-clothed chest, making him stagger back in half-surprise. 

“I DO NOT love him!” The outrage was painted on his aging face, hard lines of stress caressed his brow and eyes. His housecarl had gone too far of his accusations. Ulfric didn't love that man, because he proved to himself it was purely sexual. “You have no clue what I'm going through, Galmar. Am I to be castrated by my duties to Skyrim? Is a mere few hours of escape too much to ask for?” 

The fight would continue, both men standing their distance as the new high king angrily defended himself against the accusing elder man. “Don't think I'm deaf and blind to what you're doing. The entire night you hardly tore your eyes away from the man. And you certainly didn't appreciate his guest, now did you, Ulfric?” The man was ready to take another swing at him, choosing to bite the inside of his lip and be ready to send him through the window. 

“You would have wanted nothing more than to sail down that table and cut out his heart, didn't you?”   
“Galmar, I need you to leave. You've taken this far enough, and I am not far from shouting you out of my sight, is this clear?” His smooth voice had been whittled down to a mere whisper, understanding that his housecarl was very right. This was wrong, what he was feeling. The Dovahkiin had become a seductive distraction from the path he should be following. 

To oblivion with the Dragonborn. He will just have to deal with not having those scarce nights of release. Without the mind-numbing pleasure, the moaning and exploration...without the anticipation of being woken by his whispered kiss and the promise of not falling asleep alone. 

“I'll take my leave, then. But I pray that you realize what's truly important in your life as of right now, my king.” Galmar left, feeling as though that stone wall that Ulfric keeps around him might have a crack that's slightly larger than the one in the shape of the Dovahkiin. 

His chambers where now alight with nothing but the dim crackle at the fire behind his bed. The blonde stripped down in a flustered way, kicking off his boots with a maddening difficulty. Everything, it seems, has become much more dreadful for Ulfric. He felt suddenly ill in the pit of his stomach to know what Galmar thought of him- but was he not still a man? When Galmar had taken a shine to the young lass in the kitchen staff, Ulfric never once-.... well he guesses this is quite a different league of affairs. 

Ulfric lay nude on his bed, staring blankly for what feels like an hour. By now he'd be tangled up with the brunette, taking turns ravishing the other before they came as one. His eyes closed, his nightly fantasy playing out before him- the creak of the door, the bare hand tracing down his neck and arm. Being coaxed to wake by a soft pair of lips against his own, only to eagerly search each other's mouths for the longest time. 

Ulfric's cock twitched against his hip, coming to life by the memories playing behind his lids. Ulfric drew a heated breath, weathered fingertips resting at his stomach beginning to feel the own curves of his body. The Dovahkiin always searched him that way, as if painting on the canvas of his body until an expert hand would stroke him to fullness. 

He copied such a languid movement, his skin tingling as it came to life and his feet planted on the bed. He knows by now they'd be pinning each other in a neverending battle, Dovahkiin holding him tight and forcing him to submit. “Dovahkiin” Ulfric sighed, his buttery-smooth voice coming out as a long moan. How he wanted that warmth against him.

Ulfric's legs where spread out, back arched and hips pumping tightly by the time he'd given in to his desires. Both hands teased and stroked his own cock, his downcast eyes fixed on the sight of his moving foreskin. The palm of his hand rubbing loose circles over the slit, feeling his own precum easing the friction. 

By now the Dragonborn would be riding him hard, imagining the sight of the younger man helplessly bouncing over the king's swollen dick- or he would be in between Ulfric's legs, rolling his cock lazily inside the man enough to make him scream. He wanted all of this so badly, it made release seem so far away. Ulfric angrily slaps his own ass, leaning up to stare agape at his shuffling hand.

Ulfric was squirming and writhing on his back, masturbating doing nothing to quell his desire no matter how hard he could imagine. It wasn't the same- it wasn't Dovahkiin. Ulfric frantically reaches up, teasing his own nipple to stand. “Dovahkiin” he moans again, feeling his orgasm begin to take it's hold of him- he reaches up and tugs at his own blond locks tightly, the hand around his cock pumping feverishly until with a guttural cry he erupts. Ulfric's body tightens to stillness as ropes of semen spray over his stomach, his hand gripping and stroking weakly until with a sigh he goes limp.


	4. Months Later

Countless nights rivaled endless waking days where Ulfric was met with the trials of his lordship. Skyrim was far from being at peace, the Stormcloak flags that stood at the gate of every city have grown ragged and beaten. Soon it would mark the 7th month of Ulfric's reign as High King, and yet still unrest spread like a cancer- The Nords of Skyrim where starting to believe that Ulfric may not have what it takes to fulfill his promises. 

Imperial legion soldiers popped up like flies, causing skirmishes that left many countryside men dead in their wake. Ulfric didn't have the resources, he didn't have the time to find answers for the endless barrage of information he'd receive day in and day out. All the while he struggled with his new duties, Galmar noticed with dismay how his King grew ever more weary. The stress was taking a visible toll on the man, the faintest wisps of gray appearing at his temples, a permanent frown affixed on his face. 

Parts of him knew this would have happened, and yet the dear friend inside Stone-Fist wished that he could find a way to bring Ulfric peace. Ever since the rebellious word started spreading and the Dragonborn's appearances have simply ended, High King Ulfric's morale just seemed to decline. 

 

The king didn't want it to come to this point, but he'd lost the last bit of nerve he needed to hold back from making a foolish mistake. He called out for the Dragonborn, the man he had spent several months without yet not out of his mind. If anything, the distance and the desire had brought the Nord the strangest form of obsession- thinking that maybe just seeing him again, having Dovahkiin involved in his life in some way, would ease the pain. 

He didn't answer. Days turned to weeks and still no sign of the fabled one. 

The Dragonborn hadn't been home in a month, no doubt scouring every corner of Skyrim alongside the man who promised to always protect him. Once the courier came to him with the letter of urgency, Dovahkiin just felt a sinking in his chest. He read in between each line, a formal summons signed by the king himself.The brunette slunked over the fire at the Winking Skeever, the piece of paper dangling between his gloved fingers. His mind went back to his promise to come when Ulfric called- to sprint from Markarth to Windhelm just to spend the night in passion. “Ulfric” He breaths out, tossing the paper into the fire and watching it blacken and curl. This wasn't the first one he'd burned after reading... Far from it.

Farkas and he left Solitude, riding black stallions, their bodies coated in the finest of Dragon scale armor- they where the most popular sight to behold in Skyrim these days. They took to the plains southbound, the smell of wet grass and sprouting buds sharp in the morning air as spring approached. It was as if the land suddenly came to life with the warmer sun, the beauty was breathtaking.

Yet what the Dovahkiin saw before him as they rode made him dismount in a look of pure horror. His mouth agape, shocked eyes scanning before him as Farkas cursed and stood at his side. On the grass lay the bodies of perhaps 20 strong young men, donning the famed Stormcloak blue. Each body lay face down, several with weapons in hand. Only half had their heads intact, and as Dovahkiin picked through the bodies of his fellow Stormcloaks, he realized this was what Ulfric needed him for.

“What are you going to do?” Farkas asked him, knowing that look in his lover's eyes. Dovahkiin's face suddenly was awash with anger, a splash of sadness “We're going home. If I had only been here sooner.” 

Farkas didn't know why his lover threw politics on top of the weights of his shoulders so much. There was no need for it, and to see his beloved so enroped in this anger and regret made the dark Nord worried. Farkas just couldn't understand why Dovahkiin placed so much blame on himself for the deaths of those rebels..Not when they had so much joy to look forward to in the future. 

Had he known just how many summons letters that Dovahkiin had tossed into the fire... And all because he couldn't face seeing the other half of his dead affair. You fool, he thinks, Skyrim needs you. Guilt climbed out from that hidden place in his heart and seemed to just throttle him to the point of speechlessness. 

It was he alone who stormed through the front doors of the Palace with ice on his boots and a fire in his eye. The Dragonborn felt as if these stone walls of the dining hall accused him yet openly invited the young man to rewalk the halls. Each echoed step just felt like a reminder to him of a dirty secret hid from the world.

Jorleif almost didn't recognize him behind the dragonscaled helmet, the Dovahkiin's body grown more broad and strong. It was his voice that didn't change- the adviser leaped up, at a complete loss of what to say to the savior after so long. “I.. Stormblade! An honor to see you again.” The poor adviser always got so jumpy when Dragonborn showed up- it always meant Ulfric was leaving. 

“Don't bother, Jorleif. I need to see the King, I got the letter.” The redhead would have asked 'which one' if he was a fool- the Dovahkiin clearly was not his old self. Maybe he actually read one for a change? “I will send for him immediately.” The hall was mockingly dead without the other Nord's voice. The throne was unattended to, unchanged. Jorleif nervously took to the higher levels of the castle, not knowing whether it will be today when the older man finally snaps. The poor man.. the stress led Stormcloak to become irritable and unpredictable, and as Skyrim declined, so did his condition. He hopes with the Dragonborn finally answering his call, it would give the king some peace. 

He was alone in the hall for a time, his heart racing uncomfortably with the impending meeting with his flame, and even moreso, the poisoning guilt he feels. His mind wandered to his own selfish thoughts, thinking those letters sent by Ulfric where ones of lust..how could he have been so vain? The King needed his help and time and time again he refused him...

His thoughts cut short to the sound of Ulfric's heavy steps along the stone floor. He had his gait memorized, but before he could even see the shape of the man he knew something was not right. There was a heaviness to each step, as if he was dragging his feet. The paces where short and hurried unlike his long and seductive strides of the past. 

“Stormblade.” Ulfric appeared at the doorway, Dovahkiin's nervous eyes trailing up from his feet to meet him eye to eye across the threshold. By Talos, he looked years older..it's only been several months since they'd been in each others presence. Ulfric's eyes where full of exhaustion, the delicate skin almost a purple color and his hair a less vibrant gold. It made Dovahkiin's jaw drop unashamedly. By the gods, Ulfric looked absolutely miserable, and it wasn't hard to see... Something inside him cracks. Whether it's anger at himself or the insufferable guilt, he felt so sad at the sight of his king's condition. 

But what Ulfric saw of the younger man, it was as if the gods had graced him with their beauty since their last meeting. Their months apart, in Ulfric's mind, seemed to glorify the beauty of his muse. Turmoil stirred inside his aging and worried heart, and out of every emotion he could possibly have thrown at the younger Nord, all that could come was apathy. A cold, distant facade waiting to break under the hands of the only one who could move him. “I was beginning to wonder if you'd forgotten about us. Please, a word with you.” 

Shame kept the Dragonborn quiet as they where left alone in that damned room. The map atop the table was littered with small red flags once more, the truth revealed to the Nord that the Stormcloaks had been in need of him for such a time. Ulfric merely gestured for the man to have a look, without words waiting with crossed arms for the distanced man to respond. If awkwardness could harm a man, they'd be dead in an instant.

“...” Dovahkiin just stared at this table, his mind full of memories of the fallen Stormcloak brothers.  
“I saw what happened south of Solitude. That's what brought me here.”

“...What did you see?” Ulfric's heart sank, unknowing of the recent attack. He couldn't handle any more bad news today, not at a moment like this. He was too affixed on the anger squeezing his heart at the sight of the Dragonborn. 

“Twenty Stormcloaks dead. Not a single Imperial body.. an obvious ambush.” The High King's chest went cold, no doubt these uprisings happening more and more frequently. It seems the unrest with his rule is spreading faster than ever.

“Then you have been given a taste of what has been running rampant through our nation, Dragonborn. Rebels are being borne from every Hold. The very cloak that has brought our brothers together is becoming undone, and where are you when they need you most?” Ulfric remembers each letter sent, left unanswered. Each courier sent packing after hunting down the two men for days on end.

“Where was Stormblade when his king called for him month after month?” Ulfric saw something in the Dragonborn's face he'd never seen before.. A heart-wrenching guilt. His brow knitted and lips pursed in a grimace. If Ulfric wasn't so furious, a small piece of that Windhelm ice on his heart may have melted.

“Forgive me, my King. I've...” He decided to just lay out out bare. The younger man let the self-disappointment seep through, Ulfric able to see the discomfort. He was able to see that Dovahkiin actually gave a damn. “I've been avoiding your summons willingly. If I had known this was the severity of the issue, I'd have answered at the first call. I simply..misjudged the reason for your calling.”

And Ulfric knew why. Forget being dumped and ignored, that was simply spitting in an already open wound Dovahkiin made by breaking his oath. Forget the fiery jealousy that ripped through Ulfric at the mere mention of his companion. The vain bastard figured him so desperate to send letter after letter begging for sex. “Misjudged?” Ulfric whispered through gritted teeth, apathy slowly being broken.

“Pull your head out of your ass, Dragonborn. Do you think of me so lowly? Your vanity has cost the lives of hundreds of your brothers, and what do you have to show for it? A sad face and an apology?”

“What else can I offer but my apology and promise to follow your cause once more? I'm willing to avenge the deaths of each man and woman tenfold if you would have it of me.” He stared at Ulfric's bare hands, seeing them literally shaking with anger- or anxiety? His sudden need to reach out and hold them, to try and calm his shot nerves, grew sudden and great. 

He realized that despite the months apart, the indifference he forced upon himself, meant nothing. Dovahkiin realized he indeed still cares for the king, perhaps now more than ever seeing him looking so obviously hurt and overwhelmed. 

“Apologizing to me won't do anything. It's the wives and children of the men we've lost that need your apologies- in each city. In each Hold. Damn it if I didn't know you held your honor so lightly!”

“Ulfric...” Dovahkiin sighed, approaching him with a voice the king once thought so soothing and comforting. It was the same cooing voice that would wake him from his sleep, the same almost loving tone that Dovahkiin would moan between their locked lips. Only now it made him angry- by the gods, how angry he became within one utterance of his name by that wretched man. 

“Hold your tongue! Before I cut it from your mouth to keep you from making any more asinine promises!” The argument could be heard brewing from outside the archway, the hurried and ill-tempered voice of the King livid with anger cracking through the surface. Ulfric glared daggers at the silenced man, turning roughly to lean against the table.

“I would set aside any and all of my personal interests to aid you once more. This is a promise I will NOT break, King Ulfric. Your Stormblade is at your service.” He couldn't help it- the guilt took over and his sense of duty to his homeland renewed. Farkas will understand, he hopes. There's many promises he'd given to the companion as well..

“You're lying to me.” Ulfric's eyebrow wouldn't stop twitching, his tired face tight with a frown. The Stormcloaks will get the hero they'd been relying on and Skyrim will see the fabled Dragonborn fight for his king once again...maybe this will stop the uprisings..maybe this will give Ulfric an ounce of peace. 

“Even if I was lying to you, what else could you do? Believe in me once more, my lord.” Dovahkiin merely watched the older man as he pulled away from the table with a heave. So stressed... and yet despite the troubles and trials, Ulfric remained one of the most unforgettable faces the Dragonborn has ever seen.

Just looking at him awoke old feelings he'd repressed. Maybe it's the guilt, but all he wanted to do at that point was to throw his arms around the King. Make him forget about his troubles once more. It shamed him just how much passion he still kept hidden away for the famous king, even if his heart does belong to another. One who loves him unconditionally, one who's never done him wrong. Perhaps those months of laying in his embrace, or the audacious inability to fully have each other, left an impression too hard to ignore in his mind. 

“We need to talk, Ulfric.” He demanded, catching the man off guard as he took Ulfric's shoulder into his hand. He'd figure this out, one way or another.


	5. Reunite

Dovahkiin didn't leave the palace until twilight had made the dreary winter cold grow harshest. Peddlers took shelter by fire and the grayskins hid from the abusive tongue of Galmar's idiot brother. Ulfric let the silver base of his mug slam against the wood of the table in an empty guest room, Dovahkiin finishing the last drops of mead let warm over the fire. It may have been only a couple hours, but there where enough words shared between the feuding men to merit some peace. 

“... And with the last necromancer gone, Potema ceased to be risen. To think what may have happened if Falk had dismissed the issue in the cave.” Dovahkiin grunts, his long legs crossed in a masculine sit while Ulfric leaned back in his chair. It gave him some solace knowing that Dovahkiin hadn't frittered away the time in his absence on personal matters.

“Fool of a Nord. To think Elisif trusts the man with running her Hold.” The High King ponders deeply, unwilling to drink more. Being able to simply spend time with him, just to be able to talk to another soul willing to listen let Ulfric's guard come down. He was so tired of being miserable and alone and if this is what it takes to finally have Dovahkiin to himself, he abides it. All the while he stared at his younger muse- so much words he could describe him with..

“It's late. If I'm to help you reclaim Skyrim's faith then I'll need an early start.” The towering Dragonborn rose, his eyes on the fire while Ulfric's tired greens gazed upon him. The way the fire danced off his broad frame, how it caught the fine strands of his long hair, it reminded him of the nights he so missed. It reminded him of his unfulfilled desire, fucking himself on the most desperate of midnights wishing Dovahkiin would desire him once more. If only he could just have one more taste of the bastard that stood before him. Just one.

Dovahkiin made for the door but Ulfric's hand moved to close it before he could reach for it's handle. The younger Nord stared with widened eyes, seeing the clenched fists of the King now wrapped about the lapels of his coat. The strong grip pulled the Dovahkiin to attention, eye to eye “relinquish your promise to me, Dragonborn, and there won't be any welcome return for you here. Do I make myself clear?” 

Something inside the Dovahkiin snapped then, grabbing Ulfric's shoulders tightly and with a short spin, slamming him roughly against the door he was denied his leave with. The blonde looked up at him, his fists tight into his clothing, a gasp emitting from those lips he hadn't touched in months. He could smell the king's hot breath against him, see the pulse at his throat “You have me.”

The dragon in his soul came alive, the flame he'd suppressed suddenly sparking behind hard eyes. He leaned in, the pinned King receiving a firm kiss on his mouth that seared with a passion that time or love could not weaken. Had Ulfric not desired it so deeply, had his anger been unbreaking, the Dovahkiin would have been shouted into the flaming hearth. 

But by Talos did he desire that kiss. Just to feel himself slammed against the door, to now have those hands he'd yearned for now combing through his hair, holding his head still as the Dovahkiin's tongue reclaimed his mouth... by the gods its as if those months of hating him and denying his need never existed. 

It was mere moments before those desires gave way, Ulfrics old hands gripping and searching the stronger man in a frantic attempt to relearn him. Dovahkiin snarled at the delicious taste of those soft lips and tongue caressing his again. He latched onto blonde hair between his fingers, pulling away to see the King with his eyes drifted shut, his reddened lips parted and a gasp on each breath.

So fuckable. He didn't want to think that...no he couldn't. If he wished it he could have Ulfric at this very moment with nary a struggle. The older man within minutes looked hot and ready in his eyes, Ulfric growing hard by sheer instinct. He wanted to be dripping wet, wanted to ride him hard...most of all, Ulfric wanted to have Dovahkiin again. All to himself. 

He could have stopped, he should have, but the fire that Dovahkiin forced to hide for this royal man was burning out of control. The fire tempted him to eagerly drink in Ulfric's kiss, feeling his wet tongue against his own and soon the kings neck. That smell, the excitement on each breath was so familiar to him yet the months without him made each piece of his King more desirable. 

His hands took to touch and hurriedly study Ulfric's smaller body. It trembled in his very grip, it made the king utter the smallest of whimpers to feel what he'd only dreamed of for so long. Ulfric was ready to go, and by the look and feel of it, so was Dovahkiin. His older hands slid between the long legs of the Dragonborn, gripping tight at his hardened member “It seems you want me, still.” Yes, this is what he needs so badly. It feels as if it was a waking dream, to have those hard hands back on him and being wanted by him. 

Dovahkiin needed to stop- this wasn't right, even if it felt so devilishly good to know the King was willing to drop to his knees before him with an utterance of a word. The stressed blond eagerly massaged his cock, remembering his girth. He wanted the whole thing here and now... Ulfric leaned hard against the wall and lifted one leg, wrapping it around the waist of the taller man. 

“Ulfric!” Dovahkiin suddenly pulled away, panting, his lips glistening with a sheen of their kiss. He was a rock-hard mess with the frantic moments he'd allowed his old flame in, and this was something he still had half a mind to stop. There was a man waiting for him back home. “Ulfric, we need to stop!” He hushed the older man, watching him pull away to stare with a wild look in his green eyes.

 

“What could possibly be wrong, Stormblade? I'm ready for you, say a word and I'm yours.” Ulfric could feel his body shaking again, excitement and now..anger. “Don't tell me you're walking out on me again.” The king's eyes blazed with hatred, and Dovahkiin could feel himself tempting death from such a look on that face. The brunette felt the evil need inside him again, having flashbacks of those intense nights. His eyes yearned to see that body twisting and writhing under his, his ears yearned for that unbelievable voice shaking against his very chest as they came. 

“My king” He breathed, coming nose to nose with the king who would not let go. “Hhhah..” He didn't fight back. The sight of that fuckable man became too inviting, and he could only moan in excitement to see Ulfric slowly lower to his knees. He could feel hands going under his clothes, a bearded chin grazing over his cloth-covered dick. It forced itself against his pants, eagerly grinding into the man's lips as Ulfric kissed and nuzzled the thick bulge.

The older man sighed in pleasure to be in this position once more, his own eager cock leaking. “Let it out, and I'll remind you of what you've missed” Dovahkiin didn't have the will to say no, hurriedly lowering his fine pants until they nestled around his strong thighs. Ulfric eyed his cock, admiring its graceful curve, it's width- he wanted it in every way possible, and with an eager lap with his tongue, Dovahkiin realized he wanted to give it to him.

Fingers combed through Ulfric's silky blond hair, cradled his temple as a pale hand reached up to hold the member steady. “Take it all” He begs, watching Ulfric's eyes drift shut in pleasure, his hot tongue massaging the head before taking the tip in, suckling quietly. Dovahkiin's hips bucked instinctively, gasping out his name only to hear his king moan seductively in response, taking him in as he bobbed his head back and forth. 

He went so slowly it killed the Dragonborn to merely stand and watch. A heavy growl ripped through the younger man to feel Ulfric gag, once again growing accustomed to swallowing down his rod. The blond looked as if he was fully enjoying himself, green eyes rolled back and shut, brow knitted. All the king could think of was pleasing him, no trouble passed his mind when he was too busy thinking of what the younger man would do with him next. By the gods he wanted all of it, he needed it. 

By the time the Dovahkiin was fucking his mouth, Ulfric was sitting back on his knees, holding himself steady against the long legs he sat between. His large nose hit the bed of dark curls, a single hand stealing behind the man to grab at a tight globe of his ass. A grin passed his busy lips, an aggressive slap cracking through the room followed by a delicious yell- oh, the night he learned the brunette loved being spanked. The taste of precum gathered at his tongue, his moans growing intense when Dovahkiin gripped his hair tightly, forcing him to suck faster. 

“Ah...Ahhh..Ulfric, I'm..” The blond feverishly undid his own trousers, too far gone to stop now. He pulled himself out and rubbed himself raw, making the younger man watch. He wanted all of that cum, and Dovahkiin wanted nothing more than to blow all over that beautiful face once more. His mind was whittled down to nothing but the coming orgasm, his leg hooking over Ulfric's shoulder and grinding down on the sudden feeling of a hand between his cheeks. A finger creeped inside him with ease, the younger man throwing his head back and whining Ulfric's name. 

Ulfric was happy then- he took no mercy when he rubbed the man's sweet spot, feeling his entire body jolt and his legs go weak as they attempted to keep the rhythm. Ulfric's eyes flickered up, the sight of the king's dished cheeks, the sight of him jacking off, it was too much. The blonde pulled back, his sultry mouth open wide, hooded eyes locked on Dovahkiin while the younger Nord came. 

A strong hand tugged at the cock as it erupted white jets along Ulfric's cheeks, across the bridge of his nose and over an eye. They swayed together, both moaning feverishly until Ulfric released the limp cock, his eyes unable to focus on the sight of his Stormblade while his own release waited. 

The panting Dovahkiin watched as Ulfric arched his back, bucking tightly unto his hand in such a way that made him wish for this to never end. The blonde hiccuped a moan, his voice deep “What will you do with me, Stormblade?” He pants, “How would you make me cum?” the smallest droplets of precum oozed down his shaft, across his shuffling knuckles. 

Oh, what he wouldn't do to that man.. seeing his face streaked in his essence, his body flushed and hot. But that's when reality hit him.. his cum. All over another man's face, one he eagerly fucked despite having a faithful lover waiting for him back home. Mara forgive him... 

“Stormblade!...please!” Ulfric was desperate for the big finish, his entire body tightening and wishing for the man to lay with him and bring him release. But it didn't come, because the Dovahkiin simply did up his trousers, stared at the prone man for a mere few seconds before taking for the door.

“What!!” The king cried out, his hand faltering, pushing himself up to stand only to look out the door. The Dovahkiin ditched him. Left him teetering on the edge of release only to leave his side after he'd gotten what he wanted. If his body didn't beg for it, Ulfric would have gone flaccid just at the sheer audacity to be left hanging. What sort of man would... An ill feeling crept into the defeated blond, who was forced to lean back against the wall and stare at his painfully hard cock. 

With a huff, he gripped himself in a tight fist, the other wiping away the hot semen from his face and beard. He felt like an absolute fool.. it was agony, but he gritted his teeth and ferociously pumped himself until with a shudder he came weakly onto the floor. He had to lean back and think about what had just happened... 

Perhaps the gods where laughing at him right now, perhaps some sinister Daedra had taken intrigue in Ulfric's life and dashed it on the icy rocks. Somehow, as he stood there wiping his face of the bastard's cum, thinking about what he said. Tomorrow morning. With the sudden rush of humiliation and anger that hit Ulfric all at once, he didn't feel like he would see the morning. 

Twenty dead today. Public protests in Markarth and Solitude over the terms of his rule. Imperial numbers increasing along the border.. These thoughts washed around in his brain as he took to the hallway, stumbling his way down the staircase towards his throne room in a stupor. The sudden pain that racked his temples made him wince, it throbbed like a fresh punch to the face and blurred his vision.

It wasn't until he put his hand to the metal door to the main hall that he stood still. Twenty dead. Political uprising. Dark Elves. Bandits. Thalmor insurgents... He looked at his outstretched hand, he couldn't feel the fingertips. They where cold and shaking, and soon his lips felt numb. The more his burdens assaulted his mind the more ill he felt. With a sickened groan he about-faced and ran for his chambers. He couldn't go out there. Not now!

He couldn't believe what was happening- When he strove for becoming High King he knew it would be difficult, he knew these things would happen, but looking at it now.. “I can't do this..” Ulfric murmurs, pressing his palms tightly to his throbbing temples, eyes shut tight. Skyrim has turned out to be far too much for one man to handle.. How could he rule a kingdom if he couldn't even protect Windhelm's docks from being pirated? Keep his own followers faithful? 

How could he handle Skyrim if he couldn't even handle one man? That damn affair.. He let himself be used by the Dovahkiin like some kind of wench and was left alone. The worst part was, he still wanted him. How would his father see him now? Dropping to his knees before another man and crawling back looking for his attention over and over?

It was when Ulfric slammed the door to his chambers that he had a full-on panic attack. His lips and hands feel numb, his entire body shaking as if he was out in the glaciers. The fire seemed to burn far too bright, the tongues of flame like Sanguine's cruel fingers reaching out to pull him in. The walls seemed to squeeze him in, the air was dead and heavy and so hard to breathe in.

He collapses back onto a chair, staring up at the ceiling as his body tremors wildly. Ulfric gulps back a panicked gasp as he desperately tried to detach himself from the pain and anxiety- but he can't. He can't shake the feeling that he wont be able to survive the year before he's pulled from his throne. The people of Skyrim are losing faith in him..and right now he feels, they should. He's a fool.

The cold crept into every inch of his body, the anxiety, humiliation, anger, it all became far too much. And then the tears came. Ulfric sucked a labored breath in and out, feeling steady streams running down his cheeks, getting lost in his beard. The man could do no more than simply cry, to choke back and stifle sobs until he could find it in himself to stop. He'd let it out- such was the Nord way. No man was considered weak in Skyrim for shedding tears when he needed to, when the pain was too great. Grief is, after all, a large part of life.

But for all the times he'd wept, he can't say it was because of another man... Even if it was only part of the pain. He wouldn't be here alone in his room, tears dripping into his lap if it wasn't for that bastard. All it took was a strike such a small tender spot, and like a fool Ulfric went for it.


	6. Reasons Why

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A flashback

Like a shadow he stole through the empty corridors, the empty palace halls making each of his footsteps seem larger than life as they made their hurried way to the upstairs. The sound of whipping winds blasting winter snow smashed against the windows, making the young man happy he'd finished his journey. Well, it wasn't finished yet. He smiled wolfishly, sneaking his tall body through a cracked door.. the smile growing and growing in anticipation as each step drew him nearer to his door. 

The door to his chambers opened with the faintest of groans, the towering stone bedroom alight only with the dim flickering tongues of a fading fire. It was warm inside, the smell of him filling the Dragonborn's nostrils and proving that his long journey wont go unrewarded. Creeping with a thief's silence, he approached the bed. 

Ulfric lay sprawled on his side, a hand relaxed beside his face which nuzzled the pillow sweetly. Dragonborn stood and studied him, finding the sleeping form of the High King breathtaking. The older Nord's lips parted ever so slightly, his bare chest rising and falling in a hypnotic way that enticed the Dovahkiin to lean in further, to get on his knees at his bedside. This was what he'd been running for.

His own lips traced the soft skin before him, no more than a ghosting breath passing over Ulfric's pale shoulder before planting the faintest of kisses to his collar. A palm came down and felt the warmth of his hip, rubbed and eased the sleeping man onto his back to be face to face with him as he slumbered. Dovahkiin reached in, his fingertips combing through dark golden hair, still moist from a bath and sprawled messily. 

“Ulfric..” He whispers, smiling and in no rush to wake him- this was his favorite part. Running a thumb over the king's bottom lip, he got to admire his face. His mouth found the bridge of that big nose, found a smooth cheekbone before laying kisses to the pink scars that adorned his cheek. The older Nord stirred, his chest rising up against the touch of a strong hand combing through it's dark blonde hair.

The younger man's discovery led him down, from the throat to his chest to his stomach, breathing in his smell and pressing his luck until the older man finally moaned. Ulfric's eyes wandered behind the lids, mind snapping to attention and he instantly knew what was happening- he smiled before even opening his eyes to look. The Dragonborn's body made the bed creak as he leaned in, pressing a kiss to the now alert older man's mouth. 

“Mmmm...” Ulfric responds, feeling an excited chill in his body. The two men kiss silently for what feels like only a few moments, the armored warrior helping himself inside his mouth, making the king shudder and pull him into that bed for two. “I've been expecting you, Stormblade” He croaks, his voice heavy with sleep. “Where have you run from this time?” The bed creaks when the larger Nord lays atop the king, a pair of weathered hands pulling at straps, throwing off ebony plates- he trembled to see the Dovahkiin nude before him. 

“Falkreath. Through fog, rain and snow.. I hope I haven't kept you waiting, my lord?” Dovahkiin mapped over Ulfric's broad chest, laying him back while a hand cradled his head. “Not at all” The sexiest of chuckles passed his lips before they met eagerly. Their bodies twined together so fluidly, Ulfric's hips rising up to meet the brunette's body as he led their dance across the sheets. 

The King cherished being woken like this, always eager for the next time he'd be able to wrap his arms around the man, sultry kisses turning into a feverish fight over who would claim the other. And a fight it became, Dovahkiin's grip coming around his strong throat, holding him down while the other's fingers dug deep into his shoulder. Strong arms pinned each other down, the blond's face growing flushed and his cock swelling to fullness at the sheer audacity of the young man throwing him about the bed as if he weighed nothing.

The Jarl of Windhelm found himself sitting atop the aroused brunette, grinding down on him with rolling hips, his body mapped by battleworn hands until they wrapped around Ulfric's thick rod, massaging and tugging him until he could feel the king's very legs shaking. The older man laughs at the feeling of the Dovahkiin's dick bumping against his back, reaching behind him to grind against it “Eager, my lord?”

“All too eager.” With that they met once again, Ulfric laying atop him to explore his Stormblade. His lips traveled low until his nose met a bed of dark curls, feeling the pale man quiver below him. He could smell the excitement coming from him, feel those long legs open wide and a hand coaxing his bearded chin towards his member. “Then why don't you get me wet?” Ulfric's mouth found his sack, taking them in, letting his tongue cradle each ball just to hear the prone man whine. 

“Don't rush me, Dragonborn. We have plenty to catch up on.” 

Ulfric sucked cock like Dovahkiin couldn't believe. The man was so famous for that sexy mouth of his, but he never knew someone who could make his entire body tremor with pleasure. Ulfric was delicate and thorough, old hands mapping his fragile thighs, holding his legs open while two fingers delved inside. So different from Farkas, who was quick to take control- to shove the whole thing down his throat and ride his hips roughly. No, Ulfric respected the authority. He liked to be told what to do. 

“On your back, Handsome.” Dovahkiin ordered, watching the older man make a display of himself as he opened wide, biting his lip to watch his Stormblade quickly place kisses that trailed down his legs to his ankles, kissing the soles of the kings feet before climbing back up. How he loved that... Stormcloak's heart raced to see the Dragonborn sit upon him, a hand spreading his thigh and exposing his soft, pink hole to the king. There was a fire in those eyes, and to see the brunette's mouth hang open and his head fall back as he slowly lowered himself over the king made Ulfric himself moan alongside him. 

Seated with the thick cock penetrating him entirely, Dovahkiin merely hissed and praised the older man as he began a slow, steady rhythm. The sound of his bed rocking, of harsh quiet panting and skin against skin filled the room and was all that could be heard for the longest time. From sitting, to being pushed on his knees and then hoisted into his lap, there wasn't one way Ulfric twisted the larger man. 

And both fell back, panting and gasping while staving of their climax just to be able to meet once again and search each other- this is how it would always be. Dovahkiin's arms came around his king's shoulders, his lips meeting a scarred cheek, taking an earlobe to roll between his teeth. He could spend all night this way (As he has done in the past) simply exploring and not leaving one inch of the High King's body unworshipped. 

And this was why Ulfric needed him so. He simply let himself open, eating up the affection and attention Dovahkiin amazed him with. When his life was so dedicated to the exploits of Skyrim and sustaining his nation, it was a gift to be cherished this way- even if it wasn't out of love. It felt good, and by the gods it was one of the few things that made Ulfric happy these days. It made him happy that the Dragonborn did this for no one else but him.

He found himself hugged from behind, spooned on his side while feeling small bites and kisses spread across his freckled back. Hot breath filled the back of his neck, Dovahkiin's nose deep into his long blonde hair. A pair of larger hands found Ulfric's hips, pulling him close, sending a shiver up the king's spine to feel a long member ease itself between his cheeks. “You're mine.” Dovahkiin groaned, Ulfric feeling two fingers enter his mouth which he eagerly sucked, wetting with his spit. 

He didn't have the mind to argue. Not anymore..He wanted to belong to the Dovahkiin as of right now, to be used by him. Ulfric was moaning before those wet fingers even breached him “Then have me.” He thrust himself back, letting himself be fucked by two and then three thick fingers until he was a shaking mess. “Please..” Ulfric whispered, precum dripping from him like a leaking faucet with his anticipation. 

Being taken like this was heavenly for him, to have his back pressed tight against a broad, heaving chest.. to be full of his cock which fucked him so eagerly. His voice was ragged with pleasure, their hands finding each other's only to hold on tight. Dovahkiin knew him in and out, hitting all the right spots at the right time, making Stormcloak cry out and beg. They where so close.. 

Dovahkiin let himself come undone to the feeling of Ulfric's wet heat, sucking harsh breaths between clenched teeth and holding the smaller man tight. He was on his back now, the blonde draped over him with his thighs spread wide, cock bouncing with each thrust. “Fuck me...” he began to whisper silently, losing himself “Cum inside me..fill me up” Such sweet mindless words to come from that deep voice.. 

“Do..vah..kiin” Ulfric moaned, turning his face to meet the Dragonborn's, pressing his gaping mouth against a stubbled cheek as a single hand cradled the opposite side. He held tight as Dovahkiin thrust wildly inside him, cumming hard until semen and the faintest trickle of blood seeped from Ulfric's hole. The King was not far behind, crying out openly while thrashing his hips down onto the still-hard cock, finding exhilarating release in the pain. 

There was always a silence as they caught their breath, the Dragonborn's hand massaging Ulfric's fading hardness just to hear him shiver and flinch. A wolfish smile spread across his face, the blonde's hand still pressed tight to his cheek and forcing an eye to stay closed. “Well worth the trip, as always.” 

“I'm glad.” Ulfric sighs, far too tired for words. He could pass out atop him easily, feeling his eyes drifting shut before the taller man pulled himself out from underneath him. Ulfric lay on his back, lidded green eyes finding the Dovahkiin's just to tiredly observe him. The Dragonborn tirelessly studied him, resting at his side. The way the king looked at him was so different from Farkas' almost childish adoration- there was a certain distance he could never place in those greens.


	7. Docks

Dovahkiin splashed icy water into his face, gasping and sitting back on the cold stone of Windhelm's docks. The sky above was entirely blank, stars winking plainly back into his tired eyes. The bitter cold didn't distract him from the fiery burning in his gut, that horrific pang of guilt that ceased to leave him alone as he thought of what he'd just done. How he'd just screwed both of those men over with his insatiable lust. 

Poor Farkas.. He'd promised that man so much, and the dark Nord was willing to risk life and limb for Dovahkiin. But then, Ulfric. How he left him hanging, abandoned him and his cause entirely when he swore to honor him. He just didn't know how he could figure this out.. Dwemer and Draugr dungeon puzzles where a breeze at this point- but how could he come to terms with these two different men in his life? 

“Come inside, dearest. If you want to go fishing so badly, let Shahvee cook you up something.” The voice of the kindly Argonian woman spurred him to jump, being pulled up to stand by the green woman in her ragged dress. She was a dear friend to the Dragonborn, an almost motherly figure to him when the darkness creeped into his heart. It was warm inside the slum of an Argonian assemblage, in his stupor being made to sit and force-fed a salmon stew (whether or not he wanted it, he had no choice).

“Shahvee knows something troubles you.” Dovahkiin said nothing, glancing at the Argonian with a guilt-ridden pout. “Ah, you have a curious smell about you.. Trying to clean yourself outside on the docks?” The young Nord merely tucked his shoulders in, sucking nervously on the wooden spoon in his mouth. He never could understand a woman's intuition, he never even bothered trying to find out.

“There's no fooling you, is there? I'd rather not talk about it yet... I've.. I'm still coming to terms with something I've done.” 

“Very well, but keep in mind my dearest.. Man, mer, Khajiit and Argonian have all one thing in common. We make mistakes, and we have the choice to correct them or worsen them. It is a good thing you feel guilt. It means one has understood a mistake when he has made it.” Shahvee's croaky voice made him feel calmer. 

“You have a good heart, Shahvee knows this, and so does the one you love. Surely it will know what to do when the time is right.” The Dovahkiin merely scoffed, looking sadly into his bowl. 'the one you love' she says...Which one?

“Your optimism is sickening, you know this, don't you?” He laughs, finding no strength to get up and leave, but he must. Farkas is waiting for him.. He can only hope this good heart of his can find a way out of this mess without breaking more in the process.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where I finished it back in 03/2012. I could continue it, I am still very very into Ulfric.

**Author's Note:**

> written for the kinkmeme back early 2012. Am interested in continuing a troublesome romance between them if I get enough pos+ feedback


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